Throne of Stone -ll- Book Three of the Tales of the Fourth Age Series
by Silverhand19
Summary: Sneak Peak: "I thought the fighting would be done after the War, that there would be such peace between the peoples of Middle-Earth to be worthy of writing about." Aragorn stopped before his friend, his face grave. "Something festers in the hearts of the people that cannot be fought with sword or bow."
1. Chapter 1

**Per the usual, I do not own any of the rights to Lord of the Rings or any characters from it. The plot is my creation as are any characters you don't recognize. Anyone caught using any of the OC's I've created without my permission will be subject to a vicious beating by a 541lb gorilla named Chet.**

 **I don't own the rights to the photo's used but the cover is my own creation.**

 **This story is part of a larger story I am weaving together in an alternate universe that takes place during the Fourth Age of Middle Earth and I'm very excited to share it with you all!**

 **As always, I'd love to hear what you think of the story and any feedback you can give to help me improve my writing.**

 **Ni 'lassui.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _Four years after the War of the Ring_

 _F.A 2, February 1st_

His fingers tapped impatiently on the smooth wooden table as one of the city nobles blathered on about how the tax increase would put a strain on his coffers. He was the fifth noble of Minas Tirith to object to the tax and Aragorn was beginning to lose his patience with them.

Faramir sat to Aragorn's left looking just as annoyed as his king. "Lord Dalion, the tax is necessary to pay for the new gate that had been commissioned," said Faramir, butting in.

"Pray tell why we need a new gate if we are at peace," rebutted Dalion.

"The Easterlings and Haradrim are still a problem that we have yet to fully address," Faramir replied tersely. "The gate we have is nowhere near the craftsmanship of our forebears, and the Dwarves of Aglarond have offered to build one that would rival anything else before.

Lord Dalion dabbed the corners of his mouth and sniffed. "I don't see why we should have to pay such a high price. They should do it for free."

A few of the other lords who agreed with Dalion on the tax nodded their approval. They were in the minority for now, but Aragorn knew the subtle politics that were at play here, and how quickly they could change...for the right price.

Faramir looked at Lord Dalion coldly. "Nothing is ever free, not even the freedom you so enjoy."

Aragorn knew precisely what Faramir was getting at. He'd lost his brother and his father during the War and had almost his own life as well.

"A freedom that was almost lost because of our former Steward," replied Dalion sharply.

Anger flashed across Faramir's face, and Aragorn stood, barely hiding his contempt for the lord. "You would do well to remember your place at this table, Lord Dalion," said Aragorn slowly. "I will not tolerate such disrespect in my council chambers. You will apologize to Lord Faramir, and you will do it now."

Aragorn's tone left no room for argument.

Dalion's face turned red, and he looked as if he would burst from not only the embarrassment of having to apologize in front of his supporters but the fact he had to do it to Faramir. He attempted to put on a stoic face as he said, "I am sorry, my lord. I spoke rashly and insensitively." His voice was tight and controlled.

Aragorn looked at Faramir. "Is this acceptable?"

Faramir nodded to his king and the drilled Dalion with an icy glare. "It is acceptable.

"I declare this meeting adjourned," said Aragorn, still standing. "I shall think on all sides of this matter before I decide what is best for our kingdom."

The council members rose, quickly bowed, and shuffled out of the room, leaving Faramir and Aragorn alone.

"I think that went well," said Faramir dryly, breaking the silence.

Aragorn gave a wry smile and chuckled softly.

Faramir smiled back. "In truth, there were more members in favor of the tax than against it. That's a small victory."

Aragorn clasped his hands behind his back and began to slowly pace around the table. "Four years I have been king, Faramir, and every step of the way I've had to fight for my kingdom.

"I thought the fighting would be done after the War, that there would be such peace between the peoples of Middle-Earth to be worthy of writing about." Aragorn stopped before his friend. "Something festers in the hearts of the people that cannot be fought with sword or bow."

Faramir wasn't sure he understood. They were at peace, and the people lived without fear of the Shadow; albeit the Easterlings and Haradrim and been causing trouble along the borders, but they had not yet raised the horns of war.

Aragorn continued, drawing Faramir out of his thoughts. "It's greed, Faramir. In times of peace, men look to their own and that which benefits them. Men such as this are always among us, threatening to disrupt our hard fought victory."

Faramir was uneasy, he'd never seen his king in such a state. "Surely not all men are as you say," he countered.

Aragorn began pacing once again, this time he beckoned Faramir to follow. When he had matched his stride, Aragorn continued. "Good men hold the evil at bay, but how long can they keep up the fight? Even my line, should it continue, will become corrupt at some point. It is the way of Men to reach for that which they cannot have."

"And what is that, my lord?" asked Faramir.

Aragorn looked at him sadly. "Power. Which is why I want you to set spies to follow Lord Dalion."

Faramir stopped midstride and looked at Aragorn in surprise. "You want us to spy on our own council member?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable.

Aragorn stopped and fully faced Faramir. "I don't do this lightly," he said gravely, "but I do not trust his ambitions. Since I became king, Lord Dalion has risen to his position through questionable means."

Faramir couldn't argue that point. Though barely five years his elder, Dalion had risen quickly after the War and came to acquire large swaths of land and power. It had been unchecked until recently when Aragorn had proposed the tax, which would put a hold on the purchasing of property until after the gate was completed to free up more funds.

Faramir shook his head. "I still feel uneasy about this, but I will see it done." He bowed respectfully and left to carry out his king's orders.

As Aragorn watched him leave, he couldn't help but think back to the council in Rivendell when his brother had said something similar: _Gondor will see it done_.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Faramir was so similar to his brother in some ways, and yet so different in others. It saddened Aragorn that he would never see them together.

He began walking once more, allowing his tired mind to drift through the endless sea of memories. It finally settled on that fateful day at Amon Hen and Boromir's death.

They had tried so hard to reach him in time, but they had arrived to find him laying against a tree, three black arrows in him and countless Uruk-hai slain around him.

There was something off about the memory though, something that brought Aragorn to a halt. He dug deeper, using all of his senses and training as a former Ranger until he finally spotted it: a slight discoloration of the leaves and faint distortion of the sky. He focused on it until the picture became clear: it was a man cloaked in dark green.

The man was looking down at Boromir, but his gaze suddenly shot up and locked onto Aragorn. "I see you finally remembered," said the man casually. He waved his hand, and it felt to Aragorn as if the man pulled him from his body into the memory itself.

Aragorn felt his body collapse on the marble floor even as he stood upon the hills of Amon Hen. He looked down and saw he wore his Rangers garb, even his old sword.

"It's always a bit unsettling getting pulled into a memory for the first time."

The voice startled Aragorn, and he turned around to see the cloaked man, his hood thrown back revealing a full beard and shaved head. He looked to be in his thirtieth year of manhood, but his vibrant brown eyes showed the wisdom of ages past that even Aragorn did not possess.

"I'm in a memory?" questioned Aragorn, eyeing the man.

"Your memory, to be precise," the man responded simply. "But that's not the real question you want to know, is it?"

"Who, or what, are you?" asked Aragorn, hoping this was not some new evil.

The man smiled and clapped his hands. "I must say, your reputation holds true, my lord. You are the first to remember me! Not even Legolas has been able to do so."

Aragorn watched the man with both curiosity and caution as the man walked over to a boulder sat down. "You still haven't answered my question," said Aragorn, trying to gauge if this stranger was friend or foe.

The man chuckled. "I would tell you my name, but I'm afraid you will not remember after we leave here. There is a time fast approaching when I will be able to introduce myself in person." He shrugged. "Call me old-fashioned."

Aragorn was struggling to understand what was going on here. Was he losing his mind? It seemed like it might be the case.

"Listen to me, Aragorn, and listen to will," said the man, standing and walking over. "There is an evil coming. I do not know when, but I know that it will arise from Men." He narrowed his eyes. "You've felt it, I sense it in you. That is good."

Aragorn rubbed his head. How was all of this possible?

The man placed a firm hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Fear not for your people, Aragorn, you will lead them well for many years to come. I will bring you a helper three days you receive the letter on Mid-Summers Eve. Our arrival will be announced by the blowing of the silver horn."

Aragorn had so many questions, but he sensed that this man would not give him more than he had already shared. He was almost as maddening as Gandalf!

"I shall take that as a compliment!" said the man, laughing.

Aragorn took a step back, speechless.

"We're in your mind, Aragorn, things tend to echo in here," replied the man, turning and walking away.

"By the way, you are right to distrust Dalion. Might I suggest you search his estates?" he said over his shoulder.

When he had returned to where he'd first stood, he looked back at Aragorn and nodded. "Until we meet again."

 **-ll-**

"Estel? Estel, please wake up," whispered a desperate voice in his ear; a voice he knew so well.

"Arwen," he said groggily.

"Ai! Thank the Valar you are alright," said Arwen, breathing a sigh of relief. "What happened, my love?" she asked worriedly.

Aragorn propped himself up on his elbow, holding his head as feeling returned to his body. He racked his brain, trying to remember, but it was like a dream. A dream you wake from, and you know it happened, but you cannot recall what it was. "I-I don't remember," he said after a moment.

Arwen could sense his agitation and wondered what could have upset him so. She planted a gentle kiss on his brow. "Come, my love, you are tired. Let us go and rest for a while," she offered.

Aragorn slowly opened his eyes and looked at his beautiful wife, her eyes suggestive.

"If you insist, my lady," he replied, eyes twinkling.

Arwen giggled and leaped to her feet and dashed down the halls, her laughter echoing through the corridor.

Aragorn grinned, and he forgot his troubled thoughts and gave chase, his own laughter mixing with her in a sweet cacophony of joy that brought a smile to all who heard it.

 **-ll-**

Boromir sat impatiently on his horse as it pawed the ground, anxious to continue. He had been asked to wait, but he had half a mind to leave the confounded man behind without a horse. But he knew he wouldn't. "For the love of Gondor, Údar! How long must we stay here?"

Údar emerged from the woods a few yards away wearing his dark green cloak and an amused look. "Peace Boromir," he replied calmly, "the road is yet long, and many will be the trials you face. There is no need to rush to meet them."

Boromir sighed, the past weighing heavily on him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to do what was being asked of him. Not after what had happened.

Údar climbed onto his horse and looked over Boromir who once again wore his Gondorian attire. "You are not the same man you used to be, my friend. You will not fail."

Boromir averted his mentor's keen gaze. He wished he had his confidence.

Údar gave a small nudge to his horse to get him going, then said, "Come, we have many miles left before we reach Arnor and the greatest of your trials awaits."

They let their horses set the pace, and they were eager to run. As the hills and forests passed by them, Údar smiled to himself as he could feel _Them_ and all of the unspoken questions racing in their minds. "All will be explained in time, dear friends," he whispered, "all in good time."


	2. Chapter 2

_Fo.A 2, March 3rd_

Aragorn still couldn't quite place what had made him think of looking into Dalion's estates, but he was glad he did. He'd gone to Faramir the following day and told him to put a spy on Dalion but also to have some search all his holdings, and the spies had brought back enough to have Aragorn seize everything and imprison the lord.

Found amongst the trappings of Lord Dalion's opulent lifestyle were missives from both the Easterlings and Haradrim demanding information about the weaknesses of Minas Tirith, large sums of Easterling gold, and two Haradrim scouts.

The evidence was damning, and more kept coming.

Today Dalion would stand trial.

Aragorn sat upon his throne of stone in the Hall of Judgement listening to all sides of the story that was continuing to unfold. He no longer hid his contempt nor his anger as Dalion was presented before him to plead his case.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" asked Aragorn, drilling the fallen lord with a withering stare.

Dalion merely smirked. "Guilty."

A gasp erupted from those gathered, and Aragorn was a little surprised that he would not even try to beg for his life. He'd always struck Aragorn as a sniveling man.

"So be it. You are found guilty of treason against the kingdom of Gondor and are hereby sentenced to death two days hence," Aragorn announced, sealing the man's doom.

Dalion still wore his sly smile as he was led from the hall, leaving Aragorn feeling uneasy. _What else is he hiding?_

 **-ll-**

Arwen ran her fingers through Aragorn's hair as she sang softly to him. The trial had left him disturbed, and out of sorts, so she had tried to help ease his mind, but thus far it had not worked.

"What really troubles you, my love?" asked Arwen, pausing her song.

Aragorn sighed deeply. "I do not know," he replied, frustration clear in his voice, "but something about his demeanor made it seem like he _wanted_ to get caught."

"So you feel like if you go through with the execution, you will have given him what he wants?"

"I don't know what he wants! That's what is so infuriating." Aragorn stood up and began to pace, something that Arwen had noticed he'd been doing more and more as of recent. "Perhaps you should speak with him alone?" she suggested.

Aragorn paused and looked at her as if the thought hadn't occurred to him as a possibility. Arwen stood and glided over to her husband, smiling. "Sometimes the best answer is the simplest," she whispered, giving him a sweet kiss.

 **-ll-**

Aragorn was flanked by two guards as he made his way down to the dungeons, not that he needed them. There was no threat down here.

He grabbed a torch from the wall as they entered the lowest level where there was no other light to be found. He'd often wondered why men who'd committed the worst crimes were kept in the darkest depths. Perhaps it was because the darkness played with their already demented minds, driving them further into madness.

Aragorn suspected that would not be the case for Dalion. As he came to the hall where Dalion was kept, he was met by Dalion's voice.

"I see you have finally come to see me. Sloth, as always."

Aragorn stopped short, every muscle tense. How did he know it was him?

"Come now, Captain Tac, no need to be shy. Release me, and as promised we'll let your sister go free."

Captain Tac? Did he mean Tachion, captain of Aragorn's personal guard? And who had his sister?

"I don't have all day, Captain," snapped Dalion.

Aragorn took several slow steps until he stood before the cell, eyes ablaze. Dalion paled upon seeing who was at the bars.

"You're going to tell me everything," said Aragorn, his deathly calm. He looked at one of the guards with him and commanded he open the door.

As the man fumbled through the keys, footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. Aragorn turned to see Captain Tachion and four men approaching them. The captain stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Aragorn. "My lord!" he exclaimed, paling, "what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Aragorn said, stepping forward.

Tachion searched for the words but found none. What could be said? He'd betrayed the one he'd sworn to protect. "I'm sorry my lord," he whispered. "They have my sister."

"So I heard," replied Aragorn, his tone even.

The four men with Tachion were getting restless, they apparently had expected it to be an easy job. All four carried long swords, but Aragorn wasn't concerned; the walls were too close together for such weapons to be used efficiently.

"Tell your men to drop their swords, captain," ordered Aragorn, his gaze unwavering and hard as steel.

"I cannot," replied Tachion, "they will kill her if I don't return with Dalion."

"I will not let you take him," said Aragorn, internally preparing for what he knew was going to happen.

Pain and anger flashed in the captain's eyes, then he drew his sword. "Forgive me, my lord, but you must die."

Tachion and his men rushed towards Aragorn and his guards and met them with a terrible clash. As Aragorn had predicted, the long swords were more of a hindrance than an advantage in these close quarters. He parried away a blow with his dagger and slit the man's throat then jumped back and ducked, the blade barely missing his own neck.

Aragorn stabbed the man in the thigh and in one swift motion pulled it out and drew it across the man's stomach and drove it into his heart. He was dead within seconds.

The fight ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving all four of the thugs dead or dying. Tachion was unconscious and held by Aragorn's guards, who were thankfully not mortally wounded.

He turned his attention back to the cell, and his heart sank; Dalion had a small dagger sticking out of his stomach, and a pool of blood around him. Aragorn snatched the keys from the guard, found the key and swung open the door.

Dalion was still conscious, but his wound would be fatal. "Where are you keeping the captain's sister?" Aragorn demanded.

Dalion laughed, causing him to cough up blood. "The Black Tree...will...rise..."

Another coughing fit took him before his breathing stopped altogether.

"No," said Aragorn, shaking the man. "NO!"

But there was no response. Dalion was dead.


	3. Chapter 3

_Fo.A 2, March 4th_

Captain Tachion sat in what used to be Dalion's cell, enveloped in darkness, with the sickly smell of blood assaulting his nose. He'd been informed once he'd awoken that he had taken Dalion's place for the execution tomorrow. _I've failed you, Ninel...I've failed_.

He sighed and hung his head. He should never have accepted the position as captain of the king's guard, then he wouldn't be in this mess, and his sister wouldn't be in danger. He cursed his brother for pushing him and himself for listening.

The darkness ate at his sanity; Fed on his guilt.

Light footsteps sounded in the hall, and the flickering light of a torch cast shadows on the wall. Tachion stood and walked over to the bars and was taken aback to see his queen walking gracefully towards his cell. Within moments she stood before, he deep blue eyes looking like the ocean depths in the low light. She was alone, dressed in a simple burgundy dress and a delicate silver circlet upon her brow.

"My Queen, what are you doing here?" Tachion asked, his eyes downcast.

"I heard about your sister," Arwen replied, her tone low.

"I'm sure that is not all you have heard," said Tachion, walking to the back of the cell and sitting once more.

"A person may do many things that would go against their better nature if pushed far enough." Her voice carried no hint of accusation.

Tachion looked at her, knowing her meaning. "Why have you come?" he asked again.

"You've done me a great service in keeping our secret, Tac," she said softly, sadness edging into her voice. She took a deep breath. "I've come to offer you a chance to save your sister."

His heart skipped a beat at the mention of their secret, and then again when the full weight of her words hit him. He jumped up and ran to the bars, his voice low and desperate. "You know where she is then?"

Arwen shook her head. "No, but you do."

Tachion's hope faltered. "I needed Dalion, but he's dead. My sister's fate is sealed."

"What if you had someone who was more valuable than Dalion?" asked Arwen, stepping closer to the bars.

"Who could possibly have more value than him?" asked Tachion skeptically.

Arwen's voice came as barely a whisper. "How about the king of Gondor?"

 **-ll-**

"You said what!?" roared Aragorn, pacing back and forth in a rage.

"I offered our help," replied Arwen coolly. "Don't pretend like you were not already thinking of doing the same thing," she added.

Aragorn shot her a glare but then took a deep breath. He had been thinking of something like that if only to find out more about what the Black Tree was.

Arwen got up from the couch and lovingly stroked his face. "I know you well, my husband. You love your people and strive to do right by them." She smiled. "I suspected you would be thinking of a way to help Captain Tachion."

Finally, Aragorn smiled. Oh, how he loved his wife. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "I don't know what I would do without you," his whispered lovingly.

Arwen laughed softly. "I do not know, either."

Aragorn wrapped her up in his arms and twirled her around, smiling. She gasped and laughed; this was the Aragorn she knew, not the one who was weighed down by the crown he bore.

He set her down, his eyes a little lighter. "Thank you, my love," he whispered.

Arwen leaned back, giving him a look. "For what?"

Aragorn smiled tenderly. "For being you."

 **-ll-**

Aragorn was once more making his way down to the dungeons, this time for a very different purpose. He's listened to Arwen's plan, made a few changes, alerted Faramir, and set the wheels into motion. Now came the part that was going to hurt.

He stopped in front of the cell and saw Tachion waiting against the back wall. A look of surprise and fear crossed his face as he asked, "Did you agree?"

"You will still answer for your crimes, captain," Aragorn replied, "but I will do what I can to help you save your sister and find out what new threat lurks within my walls."

Tachion nodded. He would accept whatever punishment as long as his sister was safe and out of their hands.

Aragorn pulled out the keys, unlocked the door, and entered. He looked at Tachion squarely and said, "The people holding your sister are going to probably question you on why you did not return sooner. You're going to fight me, then tell them exactly what I tell you."

 **-ll-**

Tachion was dressed in the armor denoting his rank and privileged position in the Citadel as he led his bloodied captive, hooded and cloaked, through the dark and empty streets. His own face looked no better than his kings he reckoned; his right eye was swollen, a gash on his brow was still seeping blood, and the cut on his lip stung.

He'd really thought Aragorn had been jesting until he'd punched him in the face.

Now as they moved through the streets Aragorn staggered and fell a couple of times. Tachion didn't think he'd hurt him that badly, least he hoped he hadn't; that would put everything in jeopardy, and these people were not to be trifled with.

Tachion leaned close and quickly whispered, "We are close, my lord."

Aragorn gave no indication that he'd heard him.

They entered the sixth circle of the city and walked until they had almost reached the gate that led to the seventh circle when they ducked into an alley between two richly decorated houses. Tachion knocked twice and waited for several long minutes before he finally heard low voices and locks being undone.

The door creaked open, and light poured out as Tachion quickly pushed Aragorn through the door into a well-lit room, leaving Tachion's eyes to adjust to the sudden change. After a moment or two, he noticed a handful of armed men and one, of Dalion's allies, Lord Falcon, sitting in a plush chair at the end of the room.

Lord Falcon had a long hooked nose, squinty brown eyes, and a mildly pocked face. His fingers were steepled before him as he drilled Tachion with a glare. "Where have you been, Captain?" asked the lord, none too pleased. "And where in the name of Morgoth is Dalion?"

Falcon's wheezy voice always had grated on Tachion's nerves, and now he was trying his best to hide it and remain calm. "He's dead," he replied curtly, just as he and Aragorn had discussed.

A cold silence settled over the room. Falcon spoke first. "The agreement was for you to release him in exchange for your sister."

Tachion shrugged. "The king got to him first. But I've brought you someone worth far more than Dalion," said the captain quietly.

Falcon raised a brow, his interested peaked. "Worth more than your brother? Pray tell, who is it?"

Tachion inwardly flinched but covered his feelings by quickly pulling the hood back revealing Aragorn's bloodied face. He swayed as if dazed, his eyes practically closed.

Falcon's own squinty eyes went wide and a devilish grin spreading across his face. "You do not lie, Captain," said the lord, leaning forward.

"Now, for my sister," said Tachion, every muscle tensing. "I demand you bring her here and release her to me."

Falcon's grin vanished as he leaned back in his chair, eyes cold. "You are in no position to make demands of me, boy," he spat.

Tachion drew a hidden dagger from his gauntlet and held it to Aragorn's throat. "What would happen if I killed him right here, right now, hmm?" Tachion's voice was deathly serious. "You may be a lord, but finding the king dead at your feet, in your own home, would not look good for you."

Falcon was not amused, but he also did not want to lose his biggest bargaining chip. "Very well," he replied, waving a hand. A guard left and returned a few minutes later with a terrified young girl, no more than fifteen, in tow.

As soon as she saw Tachion she rushed over to him, and he wrapped her up in his arms, forgetting for a moment everything else.

"As promised, alive and unharmed," said Falcon, standing. "But now I'm afraid you both are too dangerous to be left alive." He waved his hands once more towards the guards, as if bored. "Kill them."

Tachion stepped in front of his sister, dagger in hand as Falcon's men grabbed Aragorn and closed in.

From outside there came a dull _thump_ and the windows blew open, blowing out the candles, and leaving the room in total darkness.

Chaos ensued.


	4. Chapter 4

_Fo.A 2, March 4th._

Screams. Yelling. Furniture toppling. It was chaos all around

Aragorn sprang into action as soon as the lights had gone out, drawing his hidden dagger and rushing towards Lord Falcon.

Keeping his eyes shut and pretending to be dazed had paid off; his eyes, already adjusted to the sudden darkness, helped the speed of his movements and had taken Falcon's men off guard.

Aragorn ran into one of the guards who was fumbling around looking for whoever was attacking them. A quick knee to the gut and a hard blow to the head took care of the man. Aragorn could hear Falcon yelling and swearing at his men to do something. Apparently, they had gotten comfortable in their power and did not expect such an attack.

Aragorn took care of another guard before finally getting his hands on Lord Falcon, who quickly realized who it was that grabbed him, and he began begging for mercy. It was pitiful.

There was a part of Aragorn that was relieved that this had worked out so well, but on the other hand, he was disturbed by how comfortable these people were in their power that they didn't dream of anyone coming after them. It seemed there were only more questions, rather than answers.

Light entered the doorway behind Aragorn. He turned around and could just make out Faramir's face in the torchlight underneath his hood.

"Have I missed anything?" Faramir asked, walking into the room.

"Oh, nothing much," Aragorn replied, trying to hide a smile.

Faramir pushed back the hood from his face and took a closer look around the room. Tapestries hung on the walls in a myriad of colors, and plush furniture was knocked over and shoved aside. Rugs were stained red with the blood of several guards who lay dead. Faramir looked around once more and then to Aragorn, the question on his lips. "Where is Tachion?"

A scream sounded from the other room, and Aragorn quickly followed behind Faramir, dragging Lord Falcon with him. As they entered a side room, they saw Ninel leaning over Tachion's body, a long dagger sticking out of his shoulder. The girl was mumbling incoherently as she sobbed. Falcon chuckled but was quickly silenced by Aragorn's fist.

Faramir kneeled down, examining the wound. He stood gazed up at Aragorn, his features grim. "He doesn't have long, we must hurry."

Aragorn gave Lord Falcon another punch for good measure and ordered Faramir's men to take Tachion to the House of Healing, he would follow close behind. He stopped Faramir and said, "Take his sister and do not let her out of your site, I do not want her wandering off or having a repeat of this. Do you understand?"

Faramir nodded. "Understood. She will stay with Eowyn and I until you say otherwise." Faramir motioned to a now bloody Lord Falcon. "What of him?"

The lord was whimpering and mumbling something about his nose being broken. Aragorn resisted the urge to punch him again and instead answered his friend. "I'm going to question him once we get back to the Citadel. Then tomorrow, he hangs."

 **-ll-**

 _Fo.A 2, March 5th_

Dalion's blood had finally dried on the cell floor, though the scent of it lingered in the air, and Lord Falcon tried to not let it unsettle him. He sat alone in the unending darkness with his thoughts. Falcon had told Aragorn what he wanted to know without divulging everything; all the names of the inner circle here in the city, and the other co-conspirators who had worked with the Easterlings and Haradrim to attack Minas Tirith in a few months' time. Falcon suspected that the others he'd named would be joining him in a few hours at the gallows if they were not dead already.

No matter, the Black Tree would rise again in time. Years, decades, whole Ages of the world could pass before the sapling of evil burst forth once more, but it would come, and they would be there to bathe it in blood. The others would see to it.

Aragorn took no pleasure in the hangings. The ten traitors that Falcon named had joined him, but Aragorn doubted this was all of them. Still, it would serve as an example to anyone else who thought of following the Black Tree, whatever it was. That was one of the things that Falcon had not been forthcoming about, he'd just kept repeating, "The Black Tree will rise."

 **-ll-**

Aragorn turned away from the macabre scene and walked back into Minas Tirith, stopping by the House of Healing to check on Tachion, whose punishment was starting to weigh on him. The man had failed to mention that Dalion had been his older brother, and Aragorn wondered if their sister had a part in all of this.

Satisfied after speaking with the healer that Tachion would recover he made his way back to the Citadel, thought after thought bombarding his mind, doubt gnawing at him. Who was he able to trust?

Aragorn entered the marble halls and made his way towards the one person he knew above all else he could trust with anything.

He found Arwen with her handmaidens chatting gaily about one thing or another. Upon seeing their king, they all stood and gave a bow before hurrying out of the room, still giggling to each other. Arwen stood and embraced her husband, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "How did it go?" she asked, sensing something was off.

Aragorn sighed and rubbed his head. "As well as it could have," he replied. He shook his head. "Just when I thought we could have peace, evil rises up to try and snatch it away!"

Arwen took his hand and led him to the window nook and motioned for him sit. Once he had she gently started rubbing his shoulders, trying to help ease his tension.

"All my life I have been trained for the day when I would be crowned king. But after everything I've gone through I still feel so unprepared and unequipped to lead these people." He hung his head. "I saw things being so different. I saw a Golden Age of Middle Earth where all the peoples were at peace, where we could have a family, and we could watch the happiness of our people restored."

Silence fell between them for a time, and they were content in it, but Aragorn's restlessness drug him to his feet, and he began to pace to try and ease it.

Arwen looked on worriedly. "What is troubling you, Estel?"

Aragorn slowed and gazed out the window. "Tachion's punishment weighs on my mind," he replied. "I know that they had his sister, but he still committed treason. By all accounts, he should hang as well."

"No!"

Aragorn felt a chill run down his spine, and he turned and looked at Arwen. She stood horrified, tears threatening to fall.

Aragorn felt his heart sink, confusion clouding his mind. "Arwen..." he stopped. No, not this...not her too.

"Aragorn it's not what you think," she said, the tears now streaming down her face. "He and I-"

Aragorn put a hand up, bile rising his throat. This couldn't be happening. He felt sick.

"Estel-"

He put his hand up again, cutting her off. He looked at her with misty eyes, shaking his head; he had no words for the pain he felt. "Don't follow me," he managed to choke out.

With that, he rushed from the room, leaving Arwen in her misery.

 **-ll-**

 _Fo.A 2, April 6th_

It had been over a month since the hangings, and since Aragorn had thrown himself into the workings of the kingdom. He'd not been seen with Arwen for that same period of time, and Faramir was beginning to worry about the both of them.

Faramir had troubles of his own. Eowyn had been less than pleased that Faramir had offered to take in Ninel, he but couldn't figure out why.

Ninel had woken up screaming for the first couple of weeks after her rescue, but those had stopped about a week ago. The girl was quiet and tended to keep to herself. Once she'd heard that her brother was doing well enough for she'd begged Faramir to take her to visit him.

Faramir did his best to accommodate her and take her to see him at least once a day once he'd finished with his other duties.

Tachion was almost fully recovered from his wound and was usually in the gardens reading or singing softly to himself. Faramir remembered a time not long ago when he had walked these same paths.

That's where Faramir stood now, looking on as Ninel and Tachion spoke about a book he'd just finished. Their voices were light, and they seemed to energize each other as they talked together, and Faramir smiled. He and Boromir had been the same growing up.

But the smile quickly faded as Faramir remembered the orders he'd been given, and he hated that he was the one to have to do it. Be that as it may, he saw no harm letting the siblings have a moment longer together. It would be their last.

Tachion looked up at Faramir, both realizing and accepting what was to come. "Ninel," he said, the love for his sister causing his eyes to water. "I have to go now."

Ninel recoiled in confusion. "What? Why?"

Tachion's heart broke at the thought of his sister living on her own, no one to look after her. He was the last one she had in Arda. Tachion embraced his sister and wept.

Ninel began to cry as well.

His gaze went once more to Faramir, his heart in anguish unlike anything else he'd ever felt before. He knew Faramir's responsibility, and he knew that what he did was out of duty. Tachion could hold no grudge against him. Besides, they shared a common loss.

Tachion stood and tore himself from his sister.

"Where are you going?" Ninel cried, jumping up. She turned and looked at Faramir and the guards walking towards them, dread filling her heart.

Tachion did not struggle against them when they took hold of his arms. Faramir had instructed them that he should be treated with dignity.

Faramir came and gently grabbed Ninel, who now realized what was happening. She buried her face into Faramir's chest as the guards led her brother to meet his fate.


	5. Chapter 5

_Fo.A 2, April 6th_

Tachion had savored every moment with his sister and felt the lump in his throat tighten at the thought of her.

He'd tried so hard to protect her from their older brother, Dalion, and his dangerous ideas but now he would no longer be able to protect her. Never had he thought that Dalion would kidnap his sister to get ahead; he had known that Tachion and Ninel were close, and used that to leverage his position and pressure Tachion into joining the king's bodyguard.

He hadn't known anything about his eldest brothers' dealings with the Easterlings or even the Black Tree, though, looking back, he could see the things he'd missed that he should have noticed.

Tachion turned his mind back to the present as the guards led him up the Citadel steps for judgment. He prayed that Aragorn would grant him an honorable death, not hang like a traitor.

 **-ll-**

Faramir took Ninel back with him towards his home, doing his best to comfort her. The girl walked with a distant stare and a tear-drenched face.

As they came within view of home Eowyn opened the door and looked from Faramir to the girl, her demeanor becoming cold. She turned and disappeared back into the house.

Faramir's heart fell. He'd hoped she could comfort Ninel in a way that he simply could not do. They entered the home, and he took her to the room that had been hers for the last month.

He helped her lay down on her bed and gently put a blanket over her, then turned to leave.

"He's going to die," she whispered, eyes distant.

Faramir turned and looked at the girl, watching the silent tears as they fell anew. He took a deep breath. "I'm afraid so," he replied, seeing no point in lying to her. He strode from the room and closed the door behind him.

Eowyn waited for him by the hearth, her gaze sharp. She sat straight-backed with hands folded in front of her. "Why is she back here?" she asked, speaking first.

"Her brother's judgment is today," Faramir replied testily. "Also, Aragorn has not given me any new orders as to what I should do with her."

Eowyn clenched her hands into firsts, bristling. "Convenient, is it not?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"If you have something to say, just say it," Faramir shot back.

"Because of the affection you show her!" Eowyn burst.

Faramir looked at her dumbfounded.

Eowyn stood, eyes blazing as she continued. "I could see it since you first brought her here! The way you fawn over her and look at her."

Faramir was becoming angrier and confused by the moment. "I have done nothing but try and offer some small comfort to the poor girl," he responded angrily. "I look at her as someone who understands what it means to lose a sibling."

Eowyn's mouth snapped shut, her eyes wide, and hands trembling.

"Perhaps," Faramir continued, "before assuming the worst, the next time you have such feeling you come to me so we can discuss it!" Faramir turned on his heel and stormed off.

"Where are you going?" Eowyn called out.

"To the trial," Faramir called back, before slamming the door.

 **-ll-**

Eowyn was left along with her thoughts as she sat in front of the hearth, the fire now dying low. Could she have misread what was going on? She cursed herself for her rashness.

Movement in the hallway caught her attention, and she saw Ninel standing there, her tear-stained cheeks now dry. Eowyn suspected that the girl had heard everything that had been said since her room was just down the hall.

"I'm sorry," said Ninel, looking at the floor. "I never meant to be a burden or cause division between you and your husband."

Guilt swept over Eowyn like a thousand horses as she looked at the girl, and it was as if she saw her for the first time. "Come here, young one," Eowyn said, patting a seat on the bench where she was sitting before the smoldering embers.

Ninel slowly walked over and quietly sat down, hand folded in her lap, eyes on the floor. Her fingers were trembling slightly.

Eowyn closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. She was a proud woman, prone to rash action and harsh words. She had faced death; defeated the Witch-King; alas, admitting she was wrong was more difficult than both of those. "Ninel," Eowyn started, "I'm sorry for my reactions, and for treating you poorly. It was insensitive and wrong."

Ninel didn't move. Eowyn sighed and looked out the window in silence. After a moment she felt a hand cautiously take hers. Eowyn looked down at her hands, then to Ninel.

Ninel's eyes were still fixed upon the floor, but she seemed a little more at ease.

Eowyn thought back to when she was a little girl; it was shortly after her mother had died, and her uncle had come to comfort her even though she pretended like she didn't want it. But she had been grateful.

Though it didn't come as naturally to her as riding a horse or wielding a sword, Eowyn wrapped her arms around the young girl.

Ninel's body shook as she tried to hold back the flood of emotions, her dark brown hair falling around her face, but the tears could not be held back.

Ninel let go of what little defenses she had left, crying out as Eowyn held her tight, a pillar of strength and womanly tenderness.

 **-ll-**

Faramir walked through the crowded streets towards the Citadel and the Hall of Judgment for the trial of Captain Tachion.

Tachion was not yet thirty years of age, yet he would meet whatever fate Aragorn had designed for him with bravery that men twice his age had failed to show a month ago.

He had only done what necessary to save his sister, and if Faramir were honest with himself, he would have done the same thing.

Faramir entered the courtyard and stalked towards the doors leading into the interior of the Citadel, not bother to look at the White Tree. If he had, he might have seen the small black spot on one of the roots, its thin veins like creeping tendrils stretching out.

He took the steps two at a time and burst through the doors like fury as he continued towards the Hall, only pausing to breathe once he was there.

After taking a deep breath, he stepped through the door and found the Hall empty, save for Aragorn, seated on the Throne of Judgment. His countenance was dark, his grey eyes cold and distant.

Faramir shuddered. Never before had he seen his king and friend in such a state; he sensed it did not bode well for the trial.

Aragorn must have sensed someone watching because he shook his head, his gaze finding Faramir standing off to the side. "Ah, there you are," said Aragorn, his voice flat and detached.

Faramir's feeling of unease grew. "I came for the trial," he replied, motioning around the Hall, "but it seems I have missed it."

Aragorn's face was unreadable as he said, "You have not missed it because it has not yet taken place. It shall be a private trial."

Faramir was shocked. Private trial? That was no trial at all! It was a death sentence.

The doors on the other side of the Hall opened as four guards walked Tachion into the room, hands in chains. His brown hair was in disarray, and his dark eyes were fixed on Aragorn; shoulders squared, he held himself with confidence. A real soldier of Gondor.

They stopped a couple yards away from the throne, silence enveloping them. Faramir could feel the battle of wills taking place amid the quiet that had fallen on them.

Aragorn seemingly broke first. He sat back stiffly. "What is your relationship to the Queen?" he asked, his voice dripping with accusation.

Faramir looked at Aragorn, appalled that he would suggest such a dishonorable thing. He may not have asked it directly, but Faramir knew the meaning behind the question.

Tachion had a look of confusion for a brief moment, then went pale as the meaning behind Aragorn's words registered in his mind. He shook his head. "I have done nothing to dishonor my Queen," he replied quickly.

"Do not lie to me!" roared Aragorn, slamming his fist down on the arm of the throne before pointing at Tachion. "You've been sleeping with my wife!"

Tachion's jaw dropped, as did Faramir's. What was Aragorn thinking?!

"My king," said Tachion, trying to find the words. "I have never done such a thing, nor has it ever crossed my mind!"

Aragorn glared at him, clearly not believing what he was hearing. "If what you say is true, then tell me what you are hiding," he demanded.

Tachion's shoulders slumped as he looked at his king, a battle raging in his eyes. "I cannot," he said softly, "I have been sworn to secrecy and cannot break my oath."

Aragorn's blood boiled. Never before had he been defied in such a way. Not only that, but this man was guilty, that is why he held his tongue. 'Well, this last question will seal his doom.'

"Who was it that made you swear this oath?" Aragorn asked, darkly.

As Tachion was about to answer, the doors at the end of the Hall groaned open as Arwen strode into the room.

There was a collective gasp from everyone there as they looked at her; her cheeks were red as if she had rushed here in a hurry, her eye bloodshot from the tears that had been flowing.

Most surprising of all was that her hair hung at her shoulders. She walked silently, her now shoulder length hair swaying gently. Arwen stopped when she came abreast of Tachion. "I am the one who made Tachion swear the oath," she stated, her grief-filled filling the Hall. Her bottom lips quivered, her voicing wavering. "My secret shame is that I have miscarried our child," she managed before collapsing to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**This is a rare time when I'll post a note before the story, but I felt it wise to do so. This is a heavy chapter and may be a trigger for those who have lost a child due to a miscarriage. I'm pulling from my own emotions that I went through (scratching the surface more like) when my wife and I lost our first child several years ago. It is a common, yet a very painful thing, and I want you to know you're not alone in it.**

 **The 'song' in this chapter is something my sister poem that my sister wrote for my wife and** I **after our loss, and I decided to use it here to share with you all.**

 **Now, on with the story.**

* * *

Fo.A 2, April 6th

The air seemed to have been sucked out of the Hall, replaced by the wails of Arwen as she lay on the floor. Cries reverberated and compounded upon each other until that was all that could be heard.

Faramir couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Aragorn felt as if he had gone deaf, the only thing ringing in his ears was the last words Arwen had uttered: "I have miscarried our child."

He felt as if he was a stone, unmoving and unfeeling; trapped in a void from which there was no escape. Until he heard it: the shattering cries of his wife.

Aragorn starred numbly down at his wife, rising from his throne, and walking as if in a dream towards her. How could he have thought for a moment she would have betrayed him? That she could have been with another man? How had he missed his wife's pain?

 _I have miscarried_.

He sank to his knees beside Arwen, unaware of the tears flowing down his cheeks, and scooped up his crumpled wife into his arms, holding her close. As his mind began to clear, the full force of the pain came with it. _I have miscarried_.

Aragorn threw back his head and let out an agonizing yell, as only a father who has lost can do, before succumbing to the pain and weeping.

Faramir stood frozen in place, his heart breaking at the sight of his king and queen undone before him. He saw the guards bow their heads in respect, their tears landing on the marble floor with a soft 'plip-plop.'

Tachion was humming softly, then began to sing. 

_"I may not have been with you long,_

 _So I'm sad to say farewell_

 _But you'll be happy to know it's in Eru's presence I dwell._

 _Even though our time together was short,_

 _I still know how much I was loved_

 _and now I'm watching over you from above._

 _So look to the skies, feel the warmth of the sun,_

 _dry your eyes, be still and know I am safe,_

 _because I am surrounded by Eru's amazing grace._

 _Until we meet again, face to face._ "

With each word, it seemed the sorrow grew more profound, but at the end, it lifted the spirits of all who were there.

Aragorn and Arwen's tears subsided until they were merely holding each other, afraid that if they let go, they would fall apart all over again.

Tachion took and calming breath before speaking. "It was just over a year ago," he began," that I was relieved of duty for the night, and decided to check everything one last time.

"All was silent that night, until, just as I was about to pass into the night, I heard a scream."

Tachion glanced at Faramir. "I ran, trying to find where it had come from. Then I heard crashing coming from the queen's chambers."

He looked now at Arwen, who nodded. He looked at Aragorn. "I entered the room and found the queen on her knees, surrounded by a pool of blood, holding something small in her arms." Tachion's voice hitched, but he cleared his throat, determined to finish. "She had a small cotton rag in her mouth to muffle her screams. I rushed to her side, and that's when I realized what she was holding." Tachion stopped, too overwhelmed now to continue.

Arwen collected herself and gazed up at Aragorn. "I'm sorry I kept this from you, Estel," she whispered. "Elves do not lose children in such a way, and I was ashamed. I did not know that mortals dealt with such sorrows."

Aragorn's mind was swimming in a sea of anguish. Their first child was gone and he could have lost her, too. But year? How had this been kept from him for so long? Would she be able to have another child?

He felt a soft hand brush his cheek and he glanced down at Arwen. "There is a grave," she said, her voice hoarse.

Aragorn felt the reality of the loss hit him all over again, but he shoved it down. "Take me there," was all he could muster.

The pair stood, quickly remembering everyone who was there and the eyes that were trained on them. Faramir looked to be at a loss, and the guards still held Tachion.

Aragorn regarded the man for a long moment. "You have helped me greatly, but you have also betrayed my trust," said Aragorn, his anger having been burned away by grief. "I have to enforce my laws as the king, yet as a man, I would set you free."

Tachion nodded grimly. "I understand, my lord, I accept whatever fate you deem for me," he replied.

"Perhaps there is a way to compromise?" asked Arwen, her eyes darting between Tachion and her husband.

Aragorn regarded her and asked, "What do you suggest?"

Arwen turned her attention back to Tachion, pain in her eyes. "Exile from Gondor," she said.

Tachion recoiled as if he'd been struck. Exile! That was a fate worse than death. To roam the lands, no longer welcome in the one you once called home.

Then another thought struck him, harder than the first: Ninel. Roaming the wilds was no place for her. Tachion squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed hard against the growing lump in his throat. If she knew he lived, she would come looking for him, stubborn girl that she was. He was left with only one choice.

Tachion opened he eyes, and look at Aragorn, steeling his resolve. "I accept. I have only one boon to ask of my king."

Aragorn gazed at him. "What would you ask of me?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"You must tell my sister I am dead, lest she attempts to come after me," replied Tachion, not bothering to hide the emotions any longer.

Aragorn nodded. "So be it."

 **-ll-**

Faramir walked as if in a trance from the crowded hall, not wanting to hear anymore, he'd heard enough for today. His heart ached at the thought of Tachion in exile while his sister thought he was dead. It seemed cruel; and who would take care of her now?

Faramir paused before the door of his home. He didn't even remember walking this way, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to be back. He sighed. It didn't sit well with him that he had been sworn to keep Tachion's exile from Ninel, and Eowyn.

He resolved to do it, though. He'd bury the secret do deep within that it would never be seen again. Faramir's mind was made up, and he opened the door, unsure of what he'd find.

The first thing that struck him was how peaceful it felt; something it had not been for the past month. The second was that Eowyn and Ninel were sitting before a rekindled fire, and they were laughing. Something about Eomer being cover in horse dung when he was a boy.

Faramir watched a few seconds longer, then backed out of the house, closing the door behind him. He walked to the garden and sat slowly on the marble bench. This day was beginning to give him a headache.

The door opened, and Eowyn glanced around, seeing her husband in the garden. She stepped out and walked over to where he sat, standing quietly.

"I think I might have missed something," stated Faramir, staring at the flowers.

"I must ask your forgiveness," said Eowyn, voice tinged with regret, "what I said earlier today was rash and unfounded." She bowed her head slightly.

Faramir knew that such an apology was genuine; his wife may be hard-headed, stubborn, and ornery at times, but those were some of the reasons why he loved her the way he did.

He stood and plucked a rose from its stem, then walked over to his wife, presenting it to her. "All is forgiven," he said tenderly.

Eowyn smiled and kissed her him lovingly, deciding to wait on giving him the news later; the real reason why she'd been so upset.

 **-ll-**

Arwen led Aragorn to a small grove nestled into the mountains where she had buried their child. There was no marker other than a gnarled old tree, blackened by what they thought must have been a lightning strike.

Aragorn shivered as the words came back to him. _The Black Tree will rise again_.

He quickly shook off the thoughts and allowed himself to mourn the child he'd never get to know. Why must there be such darkness in the world? He asked himself, frowning.

Arwen nuzzled against him. "I think we should tell everyone," she said quietly.

Aragorn nodded. "In time. First, we must take time to grieve."

"Of course," Arwen agreed.

Together, they whispered a sad goodbye before heading back down the mountain. As the pair had later discussed, they waited a week before finally announcing to the kingdom of the tragedy.

All the peoples mourned with their king and queen, and Aragorn and Arwen received many letters.

No matter how many letters he read, though, Aragorn could not get the image of the gnarled, blackened tree, and words, _The Black Tree will rise again_ , out of his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

_Fo.A 2, April 17th_

Ninel had known what would happen to her brother the moment he'd been taken in the gardens, but it did not lessen the blow when Faramir returned and announced her brother's death.

It had been over a week ago, and she had been locked up tight in her room since then, only coming out to eat and bathe, but little else.

She was overcome by a mixture of anger, hate, sorrow, and pain that beat her relentlessly. Some of it was directed towards the king because he was the one who had pronounced her brother's doom; even then, though, she knew that it had not been the king who had kidnapped her. It had not been his doing to let those filthy men touch her.

No, that had been Dalion and the members of the Black Tree. _Damn them all!_ They were the reason Tachion was dead, and she would make them pay.

Ninel stood before the mirror in her room, gazing into her own eyes, haunted by the past. Her long brown hair hung loosely, falling over her shoulders and cascading down her back; he vibrant brown eyes, hallow and sad, stared back at her.

Innocence had been ripped from her.

The young girl's eyes became hard as mithril, her lips pressed into a thin, pale line; she would make sure the Black Tree never rose again.

 **-ll-**

Tachion shifted his pack on his shoulders as he stood on the borders of Gondor and Rohan, his dark eyes scanning the horizon. He could barely make out where he knew Minas Tirith to be; where his former home was.

Turning his gaze away from the lands of his birth, he looked out on the rolling plains of Rohan, the tall grasses swaying in the gentle breeze. Tachion sniffed. He'd try and make it through Rohan quickly; explaining himself was not something he wanted to do if he could help it.

Tachion took one last longing look back. "Goodbye, Ninel," he whispered. "May your paths always be blessed."

With that, he turned his back. He would never see his homeland again.

 **-ll-**

 _Fo.A 2, June 18th_

Aragorn wasn't sure when the anxiety had started, just that it had taken over his thinking. He blamed it on the planning for the celebration in three days. Deep down, though, he knew the answer probably lay in the news that the healer had brought: Arwen might never be able to have children again.

The healer, Daron, emphasized that there was yet a chance that they could; she was an elf, and her body still healed in ways that mortals could not.

Aragorn stared blankly down at the plans for the Mid-Year celebration, shuffling through the papers without reading them.

A sudden surge of anger rose within him, and he brushed his desk clear with his arm, sending everything falling to the floor with a clash. He threw his glass and watched it shatter against the wall, then braced himself on his desk.

Why did it have to be his child? Had it been his fault? Did he do something to cause it?

The door to his study opened, and Aragorn looked up to see Faramir standing in the doorway, taking in present state of the office. Faramir met Aragorn's gaze. "Hard day?" he asked, forcing a smile.

"You could say that," Aragorn replied with some annoyance.

Faramir's smile dropped, his face more serious.

"Eowyn cannot have children," said Faramir, his voice distant.

Aragorn's head shot up. "What?!"

Faramir walked over, brushed aside some of the objects from Aragorn's desk, and sat down in a chair opposite him. He looked at Aragorn, eyes filled with sadness. "Eowyn cannot bear children," Faramir repeated, "apparently the fight with the Witch-King did more damage than we had previously thought."

"When did you find this out?" Aragorn asked, still stunned.

"Eowyn told me this morning," Faramir replied, his face emotionless.

Aragorn stared at him in silence, unsure of what to say. Both of them had experienced such similar things over the last few months, which had not escaped his notice, but he'd been wrestling with his own emotions that he'd forgotten the pain of others around him.

"How do we trust our wives again after they have kept such painful secrets from us?" Faramir pondered aloud.

His word shook Aragorn from his own thoughts. "I don't know," he said quietly, "but I don't believe it was out of ill intent that they did so." He paused as if something had just occurred to him. "Perhaps they didn't know how to handle the pain themselves, so they chose to not put it on those they cared about."

Faramir regarded his king, then nodded slowly, looking away. "You suggest I speak with my wife and find out, rather than sitting here in self-pity."

Aragorn gave half a smile. "I think we both need too."

 **-ll-**

Faramir sat before Eowyn in the comfort of their home, holding her hands in his.

It was a modest house, not lavish or gaudy as some in Minas Tirith preferred to live. Then, Eowyn had not required nor wanted anything like that, and she took great care in making sure that it reflected who they were as nobles, and as people.

As Faramir looked around the room, he became more grateful for her in spite of his earlier feelings of mistrust.

They had talked for hours now, and Faramir's heart-felt at ease once more. Both of them had gone rounds at first, both frustrated and hurting; but they had connected at last.

"Are you alright?" asked Eowyn.

Faramir smiled. "I'm alright," he said warmly.

Eowyn returned his smile, her blue eyes shining. "Good, because I have been thinking about something for a while now, and I wanted to share it with you."

Faramir cocked a brow. "Oh?"

Eowyn took a breath, then started. "I know the news I shared with you this morning was new to you, but I have known it since the battle of Pelennor. I know now that I should not have kept it from you." She glanced up, meeting it misty grey eyes. "But I have come up with a solution to this problem."

Faramir's brow furrowed, and he made to speak, but she held up a finger, silencing him. "It wounds my pride, but-"

"Eowyn-" said Faramir, trying to interject, not liking where this was going.

"I think we should adopt Ninel," Eowyn continued. "She could be our daughter."

 **-ll-**

Aragorn laid on his back in bed, Arwen's warm body nestled up against him. They had retired early that evening to be alone and to talk about everything they had been through in recent months before emotions and passions had swept them away.

Aragorn hadn't known that Arwen was still grieving their loss, or that she felt guilty about it. It broke his heart that he'd unwittingly left her to bear that alone.

Arwen stirred slightly, then settled back to sleep. He put his arm around her, holding her close; the thought of her on the floor covered in blood invading his mind.

He inadvertently shivered, and Arwen felt or sensed her Estel's distress. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "What is it, my love?" she whispered.

"Dark, unwanted thoughts," he whispered back, his face etched with worry.

Arwen sat up, covering herself with the silken sheets, lovingly running her fingers through his dark hair, then kissing him; it was slow and tender at first, later it became more passionate.

Worries dissolved, fears fled, and for the first time in months, there in the darkness of their chambers, they again felt whole and happy.


	8. Chapter 8

_Fo.A 2, June 21, Mid-Year Celebration_

The city of Minas Tirith was abuzz with excitement and expectations of the night's festivities. Merchants in the lower circles were peddling their wares, citizens buying last minute items for their parties.

There was something in the air that everyone could feel, and they knew it would be a night to remember.

 **-ll-**

Aragorn was in his study going over the last few details, mumbling to himself as he went line by line down the list for the third time.

He was so engrossed in his work that he failed to notice the servant standing beside him, hands trembling. Nor did he see what he was holding.

"M'lord?"

Aragorn jumped and looked at the servant, a boy not yet in his eighteenth year. "What is it?" he asked, a little more gruffly than he'd meant too.

The young man held out a hand, an envelope between his fingers. "It's for you, M'lord," replied the young man nervously. "It arrived three days ago but had gott'n missed and wasn't delivered."

Aragorn relaxed and took the envelope from the boy, scrutinizing it before thanking him and excusing him to his other duties. Aragorn turned it over in his hands, recognizing the handwriting. _It can't be_ , he thought to himself.

Leaning back in his chair, Aragorn opened the envelope with a small knife and unfolded the letter.

 _My dearest friend,_

 _It has been too long since we've last seen each other, and it is my hope that this letter finds you well. I found a reason to stay in the Shire, and that is the purpose of this letter, in fact._

 _In two months' time, I will make Arabella Bracegirdle my wife and I would be forever grateful if you were able to attend._

 _I have sent out letters to Legolas and Gimli in the hopes that they shall be able to attend, too. I know that everyone is very busy and I imagine it is not so easy to leave for another adventure as it once was._

 _I miss our conversations, and I hope to have a good smoke with you if you are able to come while we talk._

 _I eagerly look forward to your reply._

 _Your friend,_

 _Frodo Baggins._

Aragorn reread the letter, and again. It was Frodo's handwriting, he knew it was, but he could hardly believe what he was seeing. He had suspected that Frodo had planned to leave with Gandalf and sail West when the time was right.

Aragorn smiled, his heart full; Frodo had found someone and was getting married.

Leaning forward, Aragorn wrote down a quick reply, placed it into a new envelope, and sealed it. He left the study and gave it to a passing servant, then headed off to find Arwen and share with her the good news.

 **-ll-**

Údar sat cross-legged on a large boulder, staring at the White City gleaming in the afternoon light. Tonight, at sunset, he and Boromir would reveal themselves, but what came after that only Eru knew. He'd led them this far, he would not abandon them now.

Údar looked over to where Boromir stood, forearm leaning against a tree, his eyes fixed on the city. His city.

"I never thought I would see this city again," Boromir said presently. He turned his head, his grey-blue eyes filled with a somber sadness. "It is both the way I remember it and yet so foreign at the same time. I do not understand it."

Údar gazed at him knowingly. "You are not the same man you were when you left," he said, "and many things have changed."

Boromir looked back out towards the city, his right-hand running along the smooth, silver horn that hung at his waist. He was different; he'd been brought back for a purpose, or so Údar had told him over the years.

He heard Údar get up and walk over, hardly making a sound, which had always unnerved him. He stopped beside Boromir, following his gaze to the White City.

Údar placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "You are ready for this, my friend. Trust in Eru, and he shall make your paths straight."

Boromir nodded firmly, then went to get ready. They would be leaving soon.

Údar stared out, lost in thought. _The_ quest _the Fellowship had started was not yet over,' he thought, sensing Their presence. 'It had been merely the first step towards the End_.

 **-ll-**

Faramir sat on the steps of the Citadel, in deep contemplation. To say that Eowyn's proposal had surprised him was putting it lightly; it had left him speechless.

When he'd regained his wits, they had talked long into the night about what that would mean for them. They were taking in the sister of a man executed for treason.

They ended in a stalemate, and Faramir asked for a few days to think about it. Eowyn agreed, and he told her that he would make his decision before the Mid-Year celebration.

As he looked out, watching the passing of the day, he knew that time was running out; yet Faramir was no closer to a decision than he was three days ago.

Faramir sighed in frustration and rubbed his face. He wished his brother was here; he had always seemed to know just what to do.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Faramir turned and saw Arwen approaching him. He quickly stood and bowed. "My Lady."

"My lord," Arwen replied, nodding.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Faramir asked, doing his best to hide his conflicted emotions.

"Would you care for a walk around the courtyard?" Arwen asked, throwing off Faramir's guard.

"Of course," he stuttered, offering an arm.

Arwen took it, and they began to slowly make their way around the courtyard. They made it two times around before Arwen spoke up. "I know what troubles you, Faramir," she started, voice low so their conversation would remain private. "For it has been on my mind."

Faramir glanced at her but remained silent. Arwen had sought him out for a reason.

"Eowyn and I share a common wound," she continued, "in that, we may never bear children for the men we love. A precious thing has been taken from us." She drifted off for a moment before continuing once more. "You struggle is between your heart and your mind, is it not?"

Faramir nodded his confirmation. "My heart tells me that she would fit well with Eowyn and I now that things have settled," he said, "but my mind warns me against it because of her brothers."

"You fret needlessly," Arwen countered. "In a year no one will remember the events of these past months."

Faramir wasn't so sure, but conceded her point; it was possible that this would be mostly forgotten in a years' time.

"Perhaps you could take Eowyn and the girl to Ithilien for a time," said Arwen thoughtfully, glancing at Faramir.

Faramir's brows drew together as he thought about what Arwen had suggested. It would allow that to get away from the courts for a time, and maybe Ninel would find some peace there. He had been missing it a lot as of late.

"I take it you have made your decision?" asked Arwen, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes," Faramir replied, looking at her with a smile of his own. "Yes, I think I have."

 **-ll-**

Ninel was trying to decide what dress to wear to the celebration in the Citadel tonight, and she wanted to make a good impression; it would take a long time to dig herself out from under the mound of suspicion her brothers had left her under.

As she went back and forth between a dress of deep blue with silver waves and a gown of forest green with golden trees, she heard a voice call from down the hall.

"Ninel, could you come here please?" It was Eowyn.

What does she need? She wondered as she left the dress and made her way down the long hall.

Ninel entered the hearth room, finding Faramir standing before the hearth and Eowyn sitting on the plush couch. "You asked for me?" said Ninel, looking from Eowyn to Faramir.

"Would you have a seat, please?" Eowyn gestured to the chair across from her.

Ninel sat nervously, glancing back and forth between the two. What was going on?

Faramir smiled, relieving some of the tension. "I'll be forthright with you, Ninel," he said. "Eowyn and I have talked about this at length, and we would like to adopt you as our daughter."

Ninel gasped, eyes wide.

Eowyn spoke up. "You have been living with us for several months now, and we have grown very fond of you."

Ninel hardly knew what to say, she barely knew these people except by reputation. Even though things had been rocky at first, Eowyn had come to take her under her wing in a way Ninel remembered her own mother doing; and Faramir had treated her with such kindness during everything, even when he didn't have to.

She had no other family that she knew of anywhere in Gondor, it had just been her brothers to protect her. _Brother_ , she corrected herself. _Tachion was the only one who protected me_.

But now though, she was alone.

Eowyn and Faramir waited patiently for her response, which she appreciated; they knew it was a big decision.

After a few more minutes passed in silence before Ninel breathed a quiet," Yes."

Faramir and Eowyn's eyes lighted up. "You will?" asked Eowyn, wanting to make sure she heard right.

Ninel nodded as tears welled in her eyes. "Yes," she repeated, a soft joy filling her voice.

Eowyn jumped up and rushed to her, wrapping her up in her arms, Faramir following close behind.

As they stood there, the last of the light fading outside, they heard the sound of a horn blowing; its call long and mournful.

And yet...hopeful.


	9. Chapter 9

_Fo.A 2, June 21st, Mid-Year Celebration_

Boromir blew the horn a second time, then set it back at his waist, staring at the walls now alive with movement. He and Údar sat on their horses, just out of reach of the archers should they decide to fire first and ask questions later, awaiting the arrival of the king.

 **-ll-**

He remembered. He remembered all of it now! Aragorn raced through the streets, down every circle, towards the gates. He had come.

Aragorn saw Faramir just ahead of him standing on the walls beside the gate. "Open the gates!" shouted Aragorn, stopping short of the gate as it began to swing inwards. His heart was thrumming in his chest, mind swimming as he saw the two figures sitting on their horse not too far off.

Faramir joined him, confusion visible on his face. "What in the name of Ecthelion is going on?" he asked. "Who are they?"

"My horse!" Aragorn commanded, then turned to Faramir. "In truth, I do not fully know. He came to me in a vision, and it was he who had suggested that I look into Dalion's estate."

Faramir looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, but Aragorn insisted. "He also told me to look for a letter, one I just received today!"

At that moment a soldier brought Aragorn and Faramir's horses; fifteen guards were already mounted and ready to ride out with them.

Aragorn leaped into the saddle as the crowds gathered around them and beckoned to Faramir as he started riding. "Ride out with me, and let us see if what I say is true."

Faramir obeyed his king's command and climbed atop his horse and spurred it to catch up.

 **-ll-**

Boromir's stomach was twisted into a hard knot as he watched the gates open and two figures riding towards them, guards flanked on either side.

He knew without Údar telling him who they were: Aragorn, looking every inch the king Boromir had known him to be before the end; and his little brother, Faramir. He seemed to have changed very little, save that his temperament was reserved than it had been growing up.

Boromir was thankful for the hood that covered his face in spite of the night quickly closing in around them. He had waited years for this moment and had gone through so much to get here, and now...now he was afraid. What if he was not accepted back? What if his brother refused to see him?

The questions continued to assault his mind as Boromir shot a quick glance at Údar. He sat casually in the saddle, straight-backed, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on the men riding to meet them. Aside from Aragorn, this man was someone he admired and sought to be like.

Within minutes of sounding the horn, Aragorn and Faramir sat on their mounts just a couple of yards away from them.

"Hail, Elessar, High King of Gondor! Hail, Faramir, Steward of the king," boomed Údar, giving the Gondorian salute.

"Who are you, that you sound horns below our walls at nightfall?" demanded Aragorn, feigning anger and annoyance.

Údar's lips tugged into a smirk. "You know full well who I am, My Lord," replied Údar, calling Aragorn's bluff.

"How dare you address your king in such a way," Faramir growled.

Údar turned his keen eyes to Faramir. "He is not my king," he replied coolly.

The air became tense as Faramir and the guards' hands went to their swords, but Aragorn waved a hand. "Peace! This is no foe," he said sternly. He looked at Údar, his own sharp gaze studying the man. "I remember you, and that you said that you would come."

Údar nodded. "I also promised to bring you a helper." He motioned to his right. "And here he is."

Both Aragorn and Faramir looked at the hooded figure who had remained silent. Aragorn could see that he was a tall man, a man of strength. He eyed the silver horn resting at the man's side, and Aragorn's eyes widened. "How came you by that horn, stranger?"

"Through death and many perils," replied a familiar voice.

 _No! It cannot be!_ Thought Aragorn.

"Who are you?" barked Faramir, his face stricken.

The stranger heaved a deep sigh as they lifted their hood. "It is I, baby brother," Boromir responded, flipped the hood all the way back.

Faramir let out a cry of alarm, and Aragorn's jaw went slack. His eyes must be deceiving him, it could not be the Boromir he knew, for that man had died.

Boromir eased himself off his horse, took four long strides, and then knelt down before Aragorn. "I come back to offer my sword and skills to you, my king," he recited like he had practiced.

Aragorn looked at this ghost from the past, then up to Údar questioningly, and Údar gave a single nod in answer.

Aragorn looked back at Boromir, who was still kneeling, awaiting his king's command. He swung down from his horse, walked over to the man he'd watched die, and placed a hand on Boromir's shoulder. He did it partly because that is what was required of him as king when someone swore fealty; the other because he didn't trust what his eyes were seeing.

Boromir rose, looking Aragorn in the eye, giving a small smile. "There is much to discuss."

 **-ll-**

Faramir burst through the doors of his home as if a Nazgul was behind him, shouting, "He's alive!"

Both Ninel and Eowyn jumped, and she turned to get a look at him from where she sat, slightly irritated. "What are you talking about?"

Faramir was pacing back and forth, hands in his hair, seemingly on the brink of madness. "It can't be him," was all he kept mumbling to himself.

One of Faramir's personal guards stepped into the house, a look of fear and worry on his face. "Pardon me, m'Lady," he said, voice shaking. "The reason for our lord's behavior is because his brother is alive and on his way to the Citadel."

"But it was said that he did during the War," chimed in Ninel when Eowyn said nothing.

The guard nodded. "It was what we were told," agreed the guard.

Eowyn looked at her husband, now sitting in his chair before the hearth, then stood and walked over to grab her forest-green cloak. "I would see this for myself," she declared, striding past the guard and out into the darkening night.

 **-ll-**

It was entirely night as Aragorn, Boromir, and Údar rode through the city in silence, the faces of the citizens gawked from their windows and doorways as they passed.

Faramir had left before they had entered the city, and Aragorn could not begin to know what might be going through his mind; Aragorn was having a hard time wrapping his mind around himself.

The only one who didn't seem bothered by anything was the mysterious man, who had yet to give Aragorn his name.

They stopped before the stairs leading up into the courtyard of the White Tree and dismounted, Údar and Boromir following behind Aragorn as they climbed up the steps.

As they emerged into the courtyard, the moon crested the far horizon, casting its light upon the tree and creating an otherworldly glow about the area.

Boromir gaped at the sight before him, for he had never seen the White Tree in bloom; tall with its silver leaves and bright white flowers adorning every branch like a star, it had an air of majesty about it that harkened back to Ages long gone.

Boromir breathed deeply and took in the aroma of the tree; 'twas as warm as lilac, sweet as honeysuckle, and as comforting as lavender. It filled him with the vigor of ten men, yet set him at peace, is he was on the banks of the Anduin listening to bird-song.

Údar placed a gentle hand on Boromir's shoulder, drawing him back to the present. Boromir nodded his thanks to his mentor but noted the smiled on the man's face, a smile that had been all too rare since he'd met him.

The trio made their way into the throne room, their boots echoing in the vast halls. Boromir slowed slightly as memory upon memory came back to him; every sight, every smell stirring up a new one. How long ago they all seemed to be.

Aragorn finally led them to his study, Údar, and Boromir both taking a seat. Aragorn offered them wine, which Boromir accepted, and Údar politely declined. Once the wine had been served, Aragorn sat down in his chair behind the desk, trying very hard not to stare at Boromir.

Several tense moments passed before Údar spoke up. It was time to get down to business. "I know you have many questions, of which I will only be able to answer in part-"

He was cut short by voices in the hall, followed by Eowyn pushing her way into the study, a guard trying to stop her, but unsure of how to do so. When he protested Eowyn sent him a withering glare and the man backed down; all the Tower Guard knew the tales of the White Lady facing, and killing, the Witch-King, and they dared not bring down her wrath on them.

Eowyn turned her attention to the two men who were now standing, bowing in respect.

"What is the meaning of this," asked Aragorn, angry that Eowyn would act in such a way.

Eowyn's eyes drilled into Boromir and Údar, though Údar met her gaze with his own steadfast stare. A battle of wills taking place amidst the silence.

"I came to see if what my husband said was true," Eowyn said in answer to Aragorn's question, not taking her eyes off of Údar.

Údar grinned. "The stories told about you do not do you justice, my lady," said Údar, breaking off the battle and conceding her the victory. He motioned to Boromir who stepped forward. "This is Boromir, son of the late Denethor," said Údar, introducing him.

Eowyn narrowed her eyes skeptically. "It was said that you were slain by three arrows," she said, voice hard. "Prove it."

"Eowyn!"

All eyes went to the door to see Faramir, red-eyed and distressed. He strode in, eyes never leaving his brother until he stood before him. "If you are my brother, answer me this," Faramir said, clearly not willing to accept what his eyes were seeing. "When I was a young boy, I had taken in a stray dog and hidden it in my room in the Citadel. What did I name it?"

Boromir laughed, shaking his head. "You never had a dog, hidden or no, because you knew Father would be furious," he replied.

Faramir made to speak, but Boromir continued. "Though I do recall the time you fancied that young maid, and I covered for you while you...showed her around the stables."

Eowyn's head jerked towards Faramir, none too pleased with this, while Faramir stared in disbelief. "Only my brother knew about that," whispered Faramir.

Boromir nodded. "As hard as it is to believe, and I have a hard time myself, it is me, baby brother," he said gently.

It all made sense, and yet it didn't. Faramir had seen his brother's body in the grey boat on the Anduin. Hadn't he?

But here he stood, the brother he'd known and loved; the man he'd idolized, fought beside, and had strived to be like. Now he was here in the flesh once more. "Brother?" The question was barely audible.

Boromir used all of his strength to keep his emotions from boiling over, but hearing those words from his little brother was the final blow to the wall he'd been trying to keep up. Boromir grabbed his brother and wrapped him up in an embrace, tears of joy falling silently.

At last, he was home.


	10. Chapter 10

_Fo.A 2, June 21st, Mid-Year_

All the doors were locked up tighter than they had been in previous years; last year had almost been a disaster. The madness came only once a year, and always on the twenty-first of June.

This year, though, things were different: she was pregnant. She could only pray that when the madness took her, she would not harm the baby; not that she would remember any of it if she did.

Her husband would watch over her while she ranted and raved for hours in the darkness of the little cabin. A soft smile formed on her lips at the thought of him; he'd loved her so well these past years in spite of her fits and her immortality. She had finally let herself conceive as a gift to him, but she hadn't considered facing her madness so close to the due date which was just a week away.

A sudden pain seared her mind, causing stars to burst before her eyes, and she cried out. It was time.

 **-ll-**

Dael sat outside the windowless cabin, tears running down his face, his heart breaking as he listened to his wife call out in a crazed voice about things he didn't understand, nor did he want to. He loved her as she was.

Anxiety gnawed at him, worry growing with each passing hour as he thought of their unborn child. He felt his heart go cold when suddenly the rantings stopped, followed by a piercing scream. "The baby," she screamed. "The baby is coming!"

Dael jumped up, then froze in place. What if she was just saying that to get him to unlock the doors? But if the baby were coming, he would need to help her. Dael swore, and panic began to set in.

When she screamed again, he threw caution to the wind, unlocked the door, and flung it open to see her laying on the floor, breathing heavily. She looked up at him, eyes wide with terror and filled with tears. "Help me," she begged, eyes pleading.

 **-ll-**

The pangs of labor lasted long into the night, and when she woke up to the morning light filtering in through the door her heart quickened. No, no this isn't what was supposed to happen! Something was wrong.

She glanced down, seeing the little bundle that was fast asleep in her arms with its slightly pointed ears and reddish-brown hair.

She went to caress the baby's cheek when she saw the blood on her hand. Her blood ran cold as she looked to her left and saw the body of her husband lying motionless just a few feet away from her, a knife in his back.

The scream came unbidden, which waked the baby, and was followed by uncontrollable sobs. For hours upon hours, she lay there, baby in her arms, and one thought going through her mind: She was cursed.

 **-ll-**

Údar woke up before the sun had begun to rise as was his custom. He bathed quickly, put on the new clothes he'd been provided the previous night, and walked out to a bench that sat on the edge of the fountain where the White Tree stood in the middle. He breathed deeply of the crisp morning air, then waited.

It was subtle at first, the warmth spreading through him, the wind picking up ever so slightly. Údar smiled contentedly. "Hello Father," he said, voice relaxed and at peace for the first time in a while.

 **Good morning, my son** , replied the voice, filling the air around him.

"Things have gone better than I had hoped," commented Údar. "Though, I had planned on having that monster taken care of before now." He frowned.

The presence pulsed around him. **You do not know my purposes for him. Do not be so quick to judge what you do not understand** , replied the voice in gentle rebuke. **He has a destiny to fulfill, just as you do**.

Údar sighed in frustration. "I will trust your plan, even though I think someone else would be better suited to the task," he grumbled.

 **Someone such as yourself? Do not think so highly of yourself, Údar, lest your pride blind you to the path. You are but one in the story that is taking place.**

Údar felt the words more than he heard them. "Forgive me, Father," he whispered.

The presence seemed to envelop him, dancing and swirling around him with joy. **My son, you know there is nothing you can do that would cause me to love you less. I am the same here as I am in the world you come from**.

Údar's heart leaped with joy, and he beamed. "So I've come to learn," he laughed. He could feel the love his Father felt for him, and once again pushed the darkness from his mind. Údar looked towards the lightening horizon. "Will you watch the sunrise with me?" he asked.

 **Always** , replied the voice, a laugh rumbling through the air.

 **-ll-**

Údar watched the growing light in the east, the courtyard waiting in hushed silence. The first rays pierced the remaining darkness, filling Údar with a renewed sense of purpose. It was then he noticed his father's presence slowly withdraw, leaving him smiling.

"Still an early riser I see," came a voice softly from behind.

Údar was pulled out of his thoughts, turning around to see Arwen standing there. He rose and bowed. "My Lady."

"Come now, Elindar, there is no need for such formalities between us," Arwen replied chidingly. "We know each other too well for that."

Údar gave a small smile. "Indeed," he agreed. "But we are still bound to them none the less."

Arwen motioned to the bench, face growing sadder. "May I sit with you and speak freely, as friends?"

Údar's brows furrowed, sensing something wrong. "What is it?" he asked as they sat down, eyeing her with concern.

Arwen's gaze swept the horizon for a moment before asking, "Do you remember when we were young? The world seemed so wondrous, so safe, and the darkness was, but a rumor whispered amongst the elders." Her face looked pained.

"I remember it well," Údar replied, nodding and noting the tears beginning to form in her eyes.

His hand ached to brush them away, to hold her close and ease whatever pains she'd suffered since he'd last seen her all those years ago. Perhaps they could go to the valley and live there until the worlds ending in peace and happiness. But that was nothing but a fantasy and a dangerous one at that.

"I lost a child, Elindar."

Údar snapped from his thoughts and looked at her. The tears were sliding down her cheeks, her eyes locking onto his, and his heart froze. "What?" He wasn't sure he'd heard right.

Arwen looked back to the sunrise, lip quivering. "I miscarried our first child over a year ago," she said again, voice strained. "I kept it a secret from my husband all that time, and it almost cost another man his life because I made him swear an oath of silence." She looked at him, seeing the soft look in his eyes; that look he'd always had when she was upset. "What does that make me?"

Údar smiled sadly, taking her hand in his. "It makes you human."

Arwen leaned her head on Údar's shoulder, taking comfort in his familiar presence. "Do you ever this about us, what might have been?" she asked quietly.

"Arwen, such talk-"

"Please, do not dismiss my question," she said, cutting him off.

Údar fell silent for a moment. "You ask me if I ever think about you," his tone hushed. "I tell you there hasn't been a single day that has gone by that you haven't been on my mind."

He eased her up, looking her in the eye. "But it was not meant to be, Arwen. You and Aragorn were destined for each other. I'm an anomaly, a vapor on the wind, a fleeting moment." He paused, then continued. "The love you have with Aragorn will be talked about for ages to come, and that is something I just cannot give you. What I can offer is my friendship, and even that may be more than my heart can bear."

He fell silent, and Arwen looked at him with a mixture of sadness and respect, then nodded slowly. "Thank you for telling me." She rose and left, casting one last glance back at Údar before she entered the Citadel.

The sun finally came into full view, its golden rays bathing the city in its warmth; but for Údar, all he could feel was the heartache. That, and Their presence with those soundless questions.

"Impeccable timing," he growled, shoving himself up from the bench and walking toward the promontory as if that would shake them. "I shouldn't have to explain myself or anything in my past," he said aloud, drawing a curious glance from one of the Tower Guards, but he didn't care.

For centuries people had thought him crazed, why should now be any different. Údar sighed, reaching the edge of the point that jutted out above the city. "I'm not mad," he said firmly. "In part, I asked for the ability to be forgotten, though I did not fully understand what that would mean at the time."

He braced himself against the low wall. "If you were here, people would think you were mad as well. I suppose at least then I would not feel so alone." Údar hung his head. "What I wouldn't give to go home again, to be known, truly known for me. To hear my name again, coming from those I love. My real name."

He lifted his gaze back towards the horizon, squinting in the morning light. "But not until the End will I be free. Not until the second prophecy comes to pass, though I dread that day, will I finally get to go home."

Údar turned around staring intently as if he could see beyond the veil to where _They_ were. "But enough talk for now. "He smiled slyly. "After all, I'm just a madman."


End file.
